


I tried to give you up (but I'm addicted)

by hakyeonni



Category: VIXX
Genre: Denial of Feelings, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, gays afraid of being gay, the ravi doth protest too much methinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9873365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakyeonni/pseuds/hakyeonni
Summary: "what's your type?", or how a drunken evening in wonshik's studio quickly got out of control





	

**Author's Note:**

> just bros being bros, giving each other a helping hand. totally no homo

“She’s got a nice ass.”

Wonshik doesn’t know when Hongbin’s occasional visits to his studio turned into a routine, but it’s Friday night and he’s lounging on the sofa as per usual, a bottle of soju dangling loosely from his fingers. Wonshik has naver up on his computer screen, scrolling through articles because he’s bored and there’s nothing to do, and it’s currently showing a girl group member bending over in a compromising position.

He shrugs. “She’s alright. Not my type, though.”

When he looks back over his shoulder, Hongbin’s wearing an unreadable expression, his eyes dark as he tilts the bottle up to his lips. “Yeah? What _is_ your type?”

Wonshik doesn’t know if Hongbin’s being facetious or not, since he’s had a few flings here or there in the time since debut. He doesn’t even know if he _has_ a type, really; the only thing that links all his ex-girlfriends is the fact that they’re all women and all had long hair. “I don’t know. Someone pretty?” he hedges, knowing it sounds like an answer to the question they’re always asked: _what’s your ideal type?_ and isn’t actually an answer at all.

Hongbin’s eyes are sparkling in the dim purple light of his studio. “Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“Your type.”

The first thing that pops into Wonshik’s head is _you_ , and he turns away from the computer to hide the flush creeping up his face. He isn’t gay. He can’t be gay. He doesn’t even _like_ guys. He certainly doesn’t like Hongbin, with his smile and his dimples and his big eyes—woah. He’s clearly drunk more than he thought, because the only time those thoughts like to escape is when he’s drunk; otherwise he just banishes them, because he refuses to entertain the fantasies of something that cannot be. Instead of letting his mind linger on that, he turns back to the screen and brings up the instagram page of a model he’s been following for a while (on his private account, of course, because he’s had enough of scandals for a long time). She’s pretty, with curves spilling out of her clothes and full lips that promise they could do any number of sinful things—Wonshik has come to her pictures more often than he’d like to admit, and yet she doesn’t quite set his nerves on fire like Hongbin does.

“What do you think?” he says, too loudly, like he can drown out the thoughts that betray him.

Hongbin tilts his head to the side, looking at the screen. In one smooth movement he rises off the sofa and comes over to the desk; Wonshik tries not to look at the way his pants hang low on his hips. “She’s pretty,” he sighs, leaning over Wonshik to grab the mouse. They’re so close that Wonshik could lick Hongbin’s arm, if he wanted to, which he doesn’t. Definitely not. “But not my type. Let me show you.”

He stares at the screen as Hongbin types in a url, because it’s easier to do this than to look at his fingers, flying over the keyboard. He cannot remember a time he wasn’t entirely entranced by Hongbin, and he cannot remember a time those thoughts didn’t make him flush with shame at the audacity of them. They have all heard the stories of idols like him who get caught backstage or in vans or at the dorm. It’s never made public, but everyone _knows_ , and Wonshik cannot bear the thought of such glares directed at him. He isn’t gay, anyway. He knows that. Just because he’s fascinated with Hongbin doesn’t mean he’s sworn off women.

The page loads, and he nearly recoils on instinct—flashing up on his screen is a gif of pair of tits. There’s a woman attached to them, of course, pouting and pretty, but he’s too mesmerised by the way she’s rubbing her breasts to take much notice of her face. Thankfully Hongbin scrolls down, and at least this is a still image—she’s skinnier than the model Wonshik had put on the screen, with arrow-straight hair and a killer body. “You like them thin, then,” he says, reaching for his soju to take a swig.

“I guess,” Hongbin replies, shrugging. “She has a pretty smile.”

He scrolls down the blog a bit more and up pops a picture of her touching herself, her head thrown back in bliss; the smile on her face _is_ lovely, but Wonshik’s too busy gritting his teeth and trying not to get hard. “Hongbin, this is straight up porn.”

“Yeah, so?” When Hongbin looks down at Wonshik, he smiles, and Wonshik has to look away at a spot on the wall. It’s already too late for him—his dick painfully hard in his jeans, and he only has to hope that Hongbin doesn’t look down and see. It’s a combination of the girl touching herself so shamelessly and Hongbin being so fucking _close_ that’s driving him absolutely mental.

When he speaks, he’s hyper-aware of how hoarse he sounds. There’s such a thick tension in the air that wasn’t there moments ago, and he has no idea what to do about it. “What are you doing?”

Hongbin pulls up a video and clicks fullscreen before Wonshik can move. “Dunno,” he replies, turning to flop back on the lounge. “I’m bored and horny.”

“Um,” Wonshik starts, but he only gets as far as that before Hongbin cups a hand over his own crotch, blatantly rubbing his half-hard cock through the fabric of his pants.

It’s electric, blatantly so, and he has to bite his lip hard to not moan at the sight of it. How many times has he imagined this? Well, not this scenario exactly—he’d never have predicted they’d be watching porn together in his fucking studio—but many, many others, all ending the way this is right now: Hongbin’s head tipped back, his mouth parted, his hair falling in his face. He’s so, so fucking gorgeous, and before Wonshik knows it he’s touching himself too, not daring to delve beneath his jeans, not yet. Over his shoulder, the girl is moaning, and he knows he should turn back to look—because this is venturing into very dangerous territory indeed—but he cannot tear his eyes away from how Hongbin looks painted in purple.

“Come here,” Hongbin mutters, not opening his eyes.

Shakily, Wonshik does, sitting down on the sofa next to him. They aren’t touching, but the space between them is as electric as ever, so they don’t have to. The feminine moans colour everything as Hongbin undoes his fly and pulls his cock free, his hand curling around the base in a way that’s so familiar and alien all at once. He still has his eyes closed, like he can’t look at Wonshik, can’t acknowledge what it is they’re doing. Wonshik wants to kiss, wants to touch, but can’t, so instead undoes his own fly and curls a hand around his own cock.

He really should be paying attention to the porn playing in the background. They’re so far gone, now, that maybe it’s a bit like shutting the barn door after the horse to pretend that he’s doing this for the anonymous woman. All the same, when he looks down to see Hongbin’s hand working over his cock, he grits his teeth; this is so dirty, so illicit, that while feeling like the realisation of a thousand dreams it also seems wrong. But then again, they’re not touching. They’re not kissing. There is exactly nothing gay about this, and as much as Wonshik _wants_ to touch he will not, and that makes this okay.

And then Hongbin starts moaning.

“Fuck,” he hisses, each and every one of Hongbin’s noises travelling down his spine straight to his cock. “Hongbin, _shit.”_

With that, Hongbin opens his eyes and turns to look at Wonshik—and the lust, etched into his face, hits him like a freight train. Oh, how could he have been so blind? There has always been a camaraderie between them, but as much as he hoped he’d never expect anything to come of it. But this? Hongbin shifts slightly closer to him as he jerks himself off, his lips parted, and Wonshik has to swallow and tighten his hand on his own cock in order to resist the urge to _touch_. Over the noise of the porn, there’s the sound of Hongbin’s hand on his cock, the breathy noises he’s making. He is a thing of beauty like this. Not that he normally isn’t, but when he’s panting for Wonshik and jacking himself off—well. It’s nearly too much to handle.

“Wonshik,” he moans, and if Wonshik was standing up he knows his knees would have buckled at that. “You…”

Oh, god, it’s too much—way, way too much. Hongbin’s so fucking pretty, and his breath is puffing against Wonshik’s cheek, and he knows, he knows he shouldn’t but at this point he just can’t help himself, and leans his forehead against Hongbin’s. The touch is electric, and he jumps without meaning to; Hongbin’s forehead is slick with sweat, his hair sticking to it, and still he is impossibly beautiful. “Please,” he asks, although he’s not sure what he’s asking for. All he knows is that they’ve been heading towards this for a long, long time, and all of a sudden he knows why all those other idols get caught backstage with their hands down each other’s pants. Having Hongbin like this—that is to say, not having him at all, but simply watching—is intoxicating, and he is hooked, he wants _more_. Even if that means he’s gay, so fucking be it. He’d give the world for this.

“I’m close,” Hongbin huffs, tipping their faces closer together. They’re a hair's breadth away from kissing, but Wonshik’s almost too afraid to make the first move. “Wonshik, I’m gonna come.”

Wonshik’s treading perilously close to his own orgasm, but what he really wants is to see what Hongbin looks like when he comes—so moving quickly and without fear, he kisses Hongbin, the way he’s wanted to kiss him for years. Hongbin arches up into him, his free hand coming to cup the back of Wonshik’s neck to deepen the kiss, and the taste of his lips is like coming home. “Come for me,” he breathes, pulling back just far enough to watch his expression change.

Everything Hongbin does surpasses the thing before it as the most beautiful, and his orgasm is no different; he screws his eyes shut, and his mouth falls open, and he fucks the circle of his hand tightly like he cannot control himself. Best of all, though, best of all is that he whines Wonshik’s name, high and reedy and full of want and need as he comes all over himself.

“Wonshik.” His name sounds so right coming out of Hongbin’s lips. “Please.”

And then Hongbin reaches out and brushes his hand away, wrapping his own around Wonshik’s length, and the sudden shift in sensations is enough to have him crashing over the edge violently. He kisses Hongbin again, because he never ever wants to stop doing that, not ever, and is rewarded with Hongbin licking into his mouth in such a sweet way. Hongbin does not stop stroking him through his orgasm, doesn’t stop until he’s got come all over himself and is whining from how sensitive he is. He doesn’t even care that he’s finally realised the truth about himself. He doesn’t care about anything except Hongbin, and how alive he feels, how that when he pulls back to stare in his eyes his blood is roaring through his veins and he needs nothing more than this.

Belatedly, he realises that the video finished ages ago, and smiles. He never was paying attention to it anyway. “I’m not gay, you know,” he mutters. Moot point, really, because he’s got one hand wound in Hongbin’s hair and the other on his waist.

“Really?” Hongbin replies, raising an eyebrow. “Me neither. Promise.”

Wonshik smiles. “Good. Glad that’s cleared up.” He pauses, before leaning in to kiss Hongbin again, still slightly amazed that he can. “Because I’m really, really straight.”

Hongbin nods sombrely—but Wonshik can tell he’s trying to hide a smile. “The straightest.”

For once, Wonshik’s happy to lie to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> in the continuing saga of "maeve watches porn and gets inspiration from it", take this. i'm sensing a theme lmao
> 
>  
> 
> okay the porn can't really be blamed for this one. It was a compilation of dudes coming with other dudes and my mind wandered. welcome 2 the sin bin


End file.
